


A Heart On The Run (Keeps A Hand on The Gun)

by Lambourn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nebulous Well-Adjusted Future, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:09:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23855884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lambourn/pseuds/Lambourn
Summary: Various tumblr ficlets from 2020.Chapter 6: "I don't need a map to tell me where you are" - Michael reveals his old dreams to Alex. Post season 2.
Relationships: Michael Guerin & Alex Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 53
Kudos: 132





	1. Hell or High Water (Is it too late?)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by aewriting for the first sentence meme - “Do you have any idea why I’ve done to try to forget about you?” - “You deserve a break.” - “I thought you could use the sleep.”
> 
> Three prompts that became one story.

_**“Do you have any idea what I’ve done to try to forget about you?”**_ Alex sang into the microphone, his hands still on the strings of the guitar. The swell of the song faded as his voice filled the Wild Pony and he smiled, looking past Forrest watching him with a glow of pride, to the shadowed figure with a black cowboy hat. _“But I can’t, oh I can’t forget…”_

He smiled for the audience, as they clapped and cheered. “Thank you. I wrote that song while I was serving overseas. Tonight’s crowd is much better looking, much better smelling, and not as well armed as the last one that heard it.”

“Speak for yourself!” yelled someone from the back of the bar, sparking laughter around. 

“Point taken,” Alex acknowledged, then brought his hand up to the fret of his guitar. “I have one more for you tonight, it’s something I wrote recently. It’s about being good, to yourself first. It’s called ‘Every Night Ends At the Drive In With You’.

Afterward, as he accepted the compliments from the crowd, he finally found his seat next to Michael at the bar. “You made it, I didn’t think you would.”

Michael placed his hat on the bar, ruffled but well conditioned curls spilled over one eye. “You promised me a free drink, how can a man turn that down?”

Feeling brave and still high off the energy of the stage, Alex reached to tuck Michael’s hair away from his face, before turning to wave over the bartender with his performer’s bracelet in view. “Claiming my free drink, can you make it -”

“Seltzer and lime,” Michael finished. “Trying out being good to myself here too.”

***

**“You deserve a break.”**

Michael looked up from his work on the gene sequencer that Liz had ‘acquired’ at the hospital with Valenti. Dubious acquisition of equipment meant that when it broke, or in this case was shot up, it was up to Michael to put it to rights. “I will take one, once this is fixed.”

Alex shook his head, and dropped the bag of takeout next to him. He straightened the pocket where his cover was stowed in his uniform absently, “And it can’t wait until tomorrow?” 

“Both Liz and Rosa have altered protein structures because of being healed, and if healing a human changes your genetic makeup-”

Now it became clear to Alex, the force behind Michael’s almost manic drive to repair the equipment in the lab after the attack. “Michael, I’m fine.”

He froze, his hands still in the guts of the machine and gritted out, “you’re fine *now* but that could change.”

Sighing, Alex moved closer, slipping between Michael and his work. He started unbuttoning his uniform shirt, pulling the collar of his undershirt down to reveal the multicolor handprint. Michael echoed his sigh, leaving the machine and obligingly placed his hand over Alex’s chest on the mark. The healed left hand fit the outline perfectly. 

“You saved me. I’m not going anywhere.”

*******

**“I thought you could use the sleep.”** Michael explained, from his seat on Alex’s bed. He was propped up against the headboard, dressed in what Alex recognized as his sweats, with his hair damp from a shower, but his eyes were tired from a sleepless night. 

Alex glanced down at his phone in confused betrayal. His alarms were all silent, but more telling were a series of text messages from his sent box requesting a personal day from his secretary, and cancelling his dinner plans with Forrest. “So you broke into my phone and decided for me?”

“For an NSA trained cryptologist you should have better security-” 

“I do for my work phone. This is my personal phone! As in, personal privacy-” Alex broke off, and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Sorry.” He took another deep breath, and pushed down his nettled feelings to concentrate on what he was really reacting to, Michael’s. 

The handprint shined between them, shouting in Alex’s ear, all of Michael’s fears and worry. 

It was valid to be concerned. Just twelve hours ago the security at the school had been compromised by what Alex thought was a glitch from another lightning storm. He had walked into the lab, interrupting a squad of armed black-uniformed soldiers, and had been shot before he really realized what was going on. Waking to Michael’s white face, his hand still warm on Alex’s blood-soaked shirt, changed everything.

It also changed nothing at all. 

“You were right, I needed the sleep. Thank you and it’s probably a good idea to stay home until this print fades, can’t exactly explain it if someone sees it.” It especially would be hard to explain to his boyfriend, Forrest. The pivotal third date was scheduled for tonight. Alex was both looking forward to it, and dreading it at the same time.

Moving on had been easier than he had expected when it came to dinner out, or drinks at the bar because Forrest was a great conversationalist, but sex was going to be a whole new ballgame for Alex.

Silently, Michael offered his own phone to Alex, the message app open. 

The last message was to Maria, ‘You were right. It is my family, then Alex in my heart, then everyone else. I’m sorry.’

“I don’t understand,” Alex stuttered in surprise. “You said, you said we weren’t good for each other.”

“I can’t be good for someone, if I’m not being good to myself and that starts with being honest. Really honest, with myself. And it’s always been you, it’s always going to be you for me.” Michael smiled sadly, his eyes dropping to the mark on Alex’s chest. “You can do what you want with that information, Alex. I don’t expect anything.”

Well fuck. There was no denying the depth of Michael’s feelings or the sincerity in his words, since he was being treated to a psychic torrent of brutal honesty from the mark. Alex could trust that at least, but what kept him silent, was whether he could trust himself in return. In the past he had done a lot of self-destructive actions because of Michael, like putting himself back in Roswell for good.

“I can see the gears turning, it’s okay. Those are my cards on the table. I’ve given you lots of reasons to move on, hell some of them I said to myself, our past, the danger I put you in, plus I know I’m not a prize. My temper, plus I drink too much-”

“I don’t care, Michael.” Alex cut him off, and steadied himself under the quick rush of stung feelings from Michael. “I don’t care because I’ve never really cared about that. I cared when I thought you were hurting yourself because of me. And let’s face it, I’m all of those things to you, too. I’m dangerous to you, my family especially, and I’m a dick, I sometimes have to disappear because people are a lot-”

“Wait, wait, are you saying?”

Alex licked his lower lip, watching as Michael followed the movement with fragile hope, “I ah. I am saying, I sometimes perform at the Wild Pony, and there are free drinks for performers. When, when this handprint fades, I’d like to buy you one.”


	2. There is your hand (steady & sure)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by manesframe - Alex didn’t want to walk away again. 
> 
> Apologies for the fluff.

Alex didn’t want to walk away again. He stood frozen at the edge of the garage, caught between self-preservation and his constant desire to move closer to Michael. It was rather a joke to even consider he would be strong enough to leave this scene with his heart intact. History was not on his side.

The bright early summer sun had already raised the temperature to a stifling degree, and Michael had taken refuge under the shade of the tin roof sheltering the auto workshop. His t-shirt was hanging off the mirror of old Ford Taurus with its hood up for repairs. It was not unusual to find Michael in various stages of undressed or unbuttoned, but this was new.

Sprawled on an old couch, Michael was asleep, his arms wrapped protectively around a baby on his bare chest. 

Alex glanced down at the pair of sweating milkshakes he had picked up from the Crashdown to share, and back to the scene that was currently robbing him of any attempt at higher brain function. 

The collision inside of Alex, of seeing what he craved so badly crash into the knowledge that if he wanted it, he would have to move on from Michael, reverberated down well-traveled fault-lines in his heart. 

They were not good for each other, he reminded himself, the often repeated mantra. 

Just because he had a briefly engaging but ultimately unfulfilling relationship with Forrest, didn’t mean he was forever ruined by Michael. Just because Michael had a slightly longer, but more emotionally fraught stint as Maria’s boyfriend, didn’t mean Michael was looking to return to him for another try.

They were friends and it was enough, his follow-up mantra to the first one.

Alex’s carefully preserved emotional walls, crashing down around his ears, must have been audible as Michael started to stir from his nap, his arms tightening around the small child before he blinked sleepily up at Alex. 

“Hey, sup, bro,” Michael greeted with a sleep-rough voice, keeping the spread palm of his hand on the baby’s head in support. “Ooh milkshake, gimme!”

This was so unfair. 

He took a deep breath, slowly letting the air and the vicious bite of hope churning inside his chest out. Alex straightened his shoulders under the gravitational pull of his uniform and smiled, extending the milkshake cup to Michael’s free hand. “Hi yourself. Who’s your friend?”

“Sanders’s granddaughter. I got roped into watching her for a bit while he’s on a tow call.” Michael took a sip of the shake before looking at Alex with a suspicious smile, “this is a chocolate shake done Mexican style with extra chipotle peppers. What’s the occasion? Or the favor you want to ask.”

The baby stirred, eyelids flickering with a twist of dismay at either the noise or the change in Michael’s hold. She took a breath, ready with a cry, and Michael sat the shake on the workshop, He took a quick look around before calling with his mind a handful of wire caps in different colors to dance in the air above them. The yellow, red and blue caps weaving in patterns instantly caught the baby’s attention.

With the brewing cry calmed, Michael turned back to Alex, who was still staring in a similarly besotted manner. “Alex?”

“Right. Um, there was a rattle in my car-” Alex’s face warmed, realizing he was falling into an old excuse. Michael’s eyebrows both went up in surprise before his gaze flickered to Alex and then down to the baby, before they turned knowing with a gentle hope.

“A rattle, huh that’s no good… well I’ve got this little lady to watch for a few more hours. But um, why don’t you come back later, after closing, and I can take a look.” Michael licked his lower lip, nodding toward the milkshake. “I’ll need another one of those, and maybe a burger though, for a bribe. Better bring enough for two, actually.”

“Enough for two, after closing,” Alex repeated softly, still flushed.

“Yep, it’s a date.”


	3. you can stay afraid ( or slit the throat of fear and be brave)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andrea-lyn prompted me : "Explain the tearaway pants again?" 
> 
> This was a bit of a ride from that prompt. I hope you enjoy it.

“ **Explain the tearaway pants again**?” Alex asked, picking up the soft, shiny fabric from the box with an incredulous look to Kyle. Of all things he would have predicted as a birthday gift from Kyle, tearaway stripper pants was on the last page of the book, right before a father-son vacation voucher. 

Which he had also received, as a birthday gift from Eric, his latest and most recent now ex-boyfriend. His heart was in the right place, since Alex did say he was estranged from his dad, and well-meaning but ignorant Eric, who called his parents daily, thought a trip to baseball parks would help.

It was hard to explain to anyone he dated that when he said he wasn’t close with Jesse Manes, that it wasn’t just parental tension over his sexuality that could be eased with more talking. How do you say to someone that your dad didn’t just hate his sexuality but had attacked and maimed a teenager over it. That even drugged up with Alex waving a white flag of surrender, even faked as it was, his father had shut down any mention or acknowledgment of who Alex was. 

It was just easier to say that he and his dad did not see eye-to-eye and that it was unlikely to change. Alex had that weird thought that people, even alien shaped people, should be treated with dignity and not eradicated from the earth. There was no common ground to be found over genocide.

“I thought on the weekends, when you were wearing the prosthesis, you might find some use in easy to remove pants if you had your boyfriend over.” Kyle smiled, and moved to show him the tearaway seams that were cleverly hidden. “You told me that sometimes the mood fizzled because of getting undressed-”

“Ah,” Alex acknowledged, looking down at the box again. Another small white lie was coming back to bite him. It was true, getting undressed with someone new, was an ordeal. Forrest had handled it the best, outside of Michael, knowing just when to offer help and just when to back the hell off, but ultimately the secrets and running off because of a text about alien nonsense wore thin with him. After Forrest, he gave up on trying for a deeper relationship considering the number of secrets he guarded and went back to using a dating app which resulted in a few less-than-desirable responses to his leg.

Blaming the fizzle, on his awkward way of undressing, to Kyle was easier than mentioning that some guys lost their interest when the theoretical knowledge of his amputation became factual.

“You hate them.” Kyle reached for the box, which Alex tightened his grip on stubbornly.

“No, these are great and thoughtful, thank you. I was just thinking about the fact, I ah, Eric and I broke up today.”

“What?! Seriously?” Kyle glanced around Alex’s house with a clenched fist, as if he was waiting to see Eric appear, so he could fight him. “That dick broke up with you on your birthday? I never liked that douche.”

Alex smiled weakly, “You thought Eric was great, don’t lie.”

“I thought he was great because he didn’t act weird about your friendship with Guerin, and he’s one of the best scrub nurses in the OR but if he broke up with you on your birthday-”

“Okay well no need for workplace awkwardness, I broke up with him. In fact, you should probably take his side.” Alex gathered the wrapping paper to ball it up, and stood up to head into his kitchen, with Kyle following on his heels. He lifted the trash can lid, picking up the trip voucher on top to hand over to Kyle before disposing of the colored paper. “It’s not his fault, he is just probably too idealistic about the world for my taste.”

“Jesus, a father-son bonding trip? Yeah, no.” Kyle shook his head, before leaning against the countertop and studying Alex intently. “I don’t blame you for dumping him, I mean, you told him about how your dad treated you right?”

Once upon a time, to keep Kyle from demonizing Jim Valenti, the only man who was ever kind to Alex, he had revealed the extent of the abuse he suffered growing up. He never imagined that Kyle would end up being a part of his daily orbit, so it was at the time, a safe admission. The only reason he had any sort of comfort around Kyle now was he knew that Kyle had his own reasons for hating Jesse Manes. The support he received wasn’t pity, it was shared pain. Kyle understood, and of course Michael understood, but the rest of the world? He couldn’t trust it.

There were days when he wished he had been able to conceal the truth from Maria as a kid.

“My dad is a level of evil that approaches comic-book villain. It’s hard to come up with the vocabulary to explain it. It’s definitely not first date ground to cover.” 

“You could just say what you said to me, that he was an abusive, homophobic dick.”

“I tried that actually, with Matt, but his dad is Army, so he thought I was just talking about typical macho man bullshit. His dad called him a fairy and won’t pick up the phone when he called his mom, but he’d never tried to kill him for being gay.” Alex rubbed at his forehead, and shrugged dismissively, “even if I could explain it, there’s still alien bullshit to worry about. Forrest couldn’t deal with my secrets, so…”

“Now that, my friend, we can commiserate over. Even if Stef understood my friendship with Liz, she was less supportive of running out on her to answer Isobel Evans' every little call. As Rosa calls it, those bitch ass aliens, strike again.” Kyle picked up his half-empty beer from the counter to clink against Alex’s in solidarity.

Later, after Kyle was gone, Alex wandered out to his patio to light a fire. Despite the voucher from the now ex Eric and the funny gift from Kyle, his birthday had gone well. Maria had treated him to an amp for his sound setup, an expensive gift had it been new, but this one was reconditioned by Guerin. Liz and Max had treated him to lunch at the Crashdown with a four show pass at the local concert hall. Rosa had baked a gourmet cake, and even Isobel had dropped off a bottle of expensive scotch. 

Though it hadn’t worked out, Forrest had texted a nice birthday message along with an invitation to join a group of his friends for an antique market trip to Santa Fe. 

Alex tipped his head back in his chair, listening to the crackle of the firewood settling in the pit and finally allowed himself to think about Michael, or more specifically the absence of Michael today. It was pressing on a bruise, to consider the gift from Maria might actually have been a joint gift. He didn’t think they had gotten back together again, but he wasn’t sure.

The gap in knowledge about Maria warred with the feeling that maybe Michael had forgotten, and it ached. He wasn’t sure which hurt more. 

His phone vibrated against his leg. Alex placed his beer on the ground next to his chair and opened the notification. It was his security system letting him know that someone had pulled up to the front of the house. His heart thumped painfully but hopefully as he recognized Michael’s truck.

Sitting with his back to the gate made him itch in anticipation but not fear as he heard the crunch of Michael’s boots against the gravel. “You’re late.”

“Yeah, sorry. Um, happy birthday” Michael replied as he closed the distance in the dark to Alex’s chair. He threw himself into the chair gracelessly, before picking up his phone to check the time, “I’m not too late am I? This says it’s after midnight.”

Shivering a little, even though it was warm, Alex took a sip of his beer. “You’re never too late, Michael.”

The words settled between them, weighty and revealing. Alex immediately wanted to take them back. That was too truthful. Perhaps he was getting maudlin because of his birthday, but having Michael, someone who knew him inside and out, after a day of feeling just out of step with everyone else, was a balm on his heart.

Michael placed his hat next to them on the patio, glancing back toward the house with a sympathetic glance. “I figured. And um, I heard from Valenti about Eric, so, I thought you might not turn me away if I showed up.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Alex took another long swallow, staring into the flames, as the previous comfort of Michael’s presence faded. Not a pity visit. He couldn’t take that. Not daring to look at Michael because seeing his profile lit up by the firelight always did things to Alex’s heart, he finished his beer. Things he was still working on letting go of for his own good. “I’m fine, it wasn’t serious with Eric.”

“I’m glad you’re fine, but that’s not why I’m here.” 

There was a rustle of paper that caught Alex’s attention, and as he finally turned to face Michael, he froze. There was a folder in Michael’s hand. He couldn’t help but remember the recent past, where the cover of a folder barely covered the horrors of within. It was always gruesome intake forms or grisly after action reports that gleefully detailed the murder of civilians and the incarceration of aliens.

Michael shook the folder gently, “go on, it’s not gonna bite.”

Pressing his lips together in resignation, Alex reached for the folder. As rocky as things had been in the past, he was certain Michael wouldn’t try to hurt him on his birthday. It wasn’t his fault that Alex was a pessimist. Flipping open the manila cover, he paused again. His eyes roved down a list of names and numbers, along with a familiar family name.

“That’s my grandmother’s name,” Alex furrowed his brow in confusion looking over to Michael, as he leaned forward in happy anticipation.

“So last year, remember how I went to Texas with Max,” Michael began, and paused at the pained expression on Alex’s face. Right, it was unlikely that the beginning of Maria’s feelings had been forgotten. “Dumb question, okay well, we met an old woman from the Mescalero Res and her granddaughter. They were practicing some fake faith healing con game, which kinda pissed me off, until I realized the props they used were drawn from a visitor they had.”

“A visitor?”

“Yeah, they used lights to make their hand glow when they healed. She described a woman who lived there, and never spoke but had that ability. I drove there last month to ask her more about it. It turns out this woman was introduced to the tribe by your grandmother.” Michael smiled broadly, his fingers tapping with impatient energy. “So I went to the Diné people to ask about her. I know she’s passed on, but she left stories. An oral history. Err, they didn’t want to talk to me, being a white guy, but after I fixed just about every car on the Res-”

“That’s where you’ve been every weekend?”

Michael looked pleased, “You noticed?”

Caught out by just how aware he was of Michael’s movements, Alex gestured, “That’s not important, um keep going with your story.”

Still looking pleased, Michael picked up his tale, “So after I fixed every piece of shit car, every finicky generator, and promised that I would only repeat this to another member of the People, they told me what happened. Your grandmother and great-grandmother ran a sort of underground network for women in trouble. One night, in 1947, a group of ...visitors found her and her mom on the side of the road. They were waiting for supplies, from a sympathetic doctor.”

“Wait,” Alex stuttered, looking down at the list of names and numbers. “Are you saying-”

“They saved ten crash survivors that night, and scattered them to other tribes for safety.” Michael reached over to tap the paper, “I have no idea where they went, that’s still a secret to me, but… some of my people lived, free. Because of your family.”

Overwhelmed, Alex squeezed his eyes shut tightly. It was no use, he could feel the tears spilling out rebelliously down his cheeks, as he sucked in an unsteady breath. The weight of his name, of the evil done by his father, was still there, but now there was a counter-balance. Harshly Alex gasped for another breath, shuddering as a sob broke through his control.

“Sweetheart, oh god, I didn’t mean to make you cry-” Michael murmured, distraught as he shifted closer, placing a tentative hand on Alex’s shoulder. The simple touch unleashed what shaky hold on control Alex had, as he collapsed into Michael’s arms. Without hesitation, Michael pulled Alex into his embrace, letting him shake in the safe confines of his strength.

The poison that Alex had felt, writhing under his skin, from as long as he could remember was slowly being lanced and drained. It didn’t matter that Michael had never blamed Alex for his family, no words could touch that reservoir of toxin inside him that marked him a Manes Man. Only actions could. 

On the day celebrating his birth, Alex could finally feel peace regarding the blood in his veins.

“I’m sorry, I should have let you know I was looking into your family after Arizona’s grandmother mentioned it. I was going to, if my campaign of fixin’ shit didn’t work, ‘cause you’re a member, they would have talked to you, I just wanted to give you some good info. But if I crossed the line, I’m sorry-”

Alex silenced Michael’s apologies with his lips.

His action halted Michael for a moment, before he groaned against Alex’s lips and deepened the kiss hungrily. His hands came up to cup Alex’s skull gently even as he increased his efforts of climbing into Alex’s skin through the sheer connection of the kiss. Long moments passed as Alex bit gently before diving into the silky heat of Michael’s mouth.

The need for oxygen won at last over his other instincts and reluctantly Alex broke the kiss. He kept his forehead pressed against Michael’s as they traded deep breaths in the silence. Closing his eyes, Alex spoke quietly, “If *I* crossed a line just then-”

“You didn’t, as long as you’re not sorry.”

Looking up at Michael’s dark, still slightly stunned eyes, Alex smiled weakly, “I’m not, but I admit, I didn’t see this happening. With you. I thought you didn’t want to go down this road again.”

Michael reached up, combing his fingers through Alex’s soft, growing dark locks gently. “I don’t want to go down the *same* road, but I was hopin’ we might find a different path. And full disclosure, we’re kinda ahead of my plans. I didn’t think you were gonna dump Eric today-”

Huffing a soft laugh, Alex replied wryly, “I wasn’t planning on it, but he thought my dad and I could patch things up by going to Wrigley Field together. He bought me a Field of Dreams-themed trip for me and dear old dad.”

“What. The. Fuck.” Michael blinked a few times, clearly running the words through his mind for meaning. “For one thing, you don’t even like baseball, and for another, your dad is a homophobic murdering psychopath.”

Alex burst out laughing at the offense in Michael’s voice. Pieces slotted into place, knowing that Michael understood not just on a theoretical level, but a deeply personal level just how fucked that suggestion was about Jesse. “God, you’re right, I hate baseball.”

He captured Michael’s hand, still stroking through his hair, and pressed a soft kiss on his rough calloused palm. Hands that had spent weeks working tirelessly for free just to get Alex some answers and peace about where he came from and who he was. A fresh burn of tears threatened as he thought about the effort Michael had expended.

“More tears?” Michael remarked softly, feeling the wet brush of Alex’s eyelashes against his hand. 

“Happy tears.” Alex straightened and got to his feet, holding onto Michael’s hand. He cast a considering eye on the fire, deciding it had burned down low enough to install the fire pit cover. Rubbing his thumb against the silky seam of his pants, he tugged Michael toward the house, “So Kyle got me these pants for my birthday, and they were the second best present I had today.” His smile turned wicked as he led the way toward the bedroom with confidence, “I would really like to show you how they work, if you’re interested...”


	4. bed big enough for dreams but too small for injuries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny ficlet written for prouvaireafterdark on tumblr
> 
> Soft established malex feels.

If you asked Michael, the best place in the new king-sized bed they bought for the house, was straddling Alex, keeping his shoulders as straight as possible as he drove down against Alex’s braced upward thrust. However, afterward, with their breath caught and both clean from a shower, there was really no excuse for how they always ended up nearly on top of each other every morning.

A vast expanse of bed stretched out behind Michael, enough for another bed mate, if they were so inclined. (They weren’t. Ever.) Still even with the room, Michael often found himself curled against Alex’s chest in the morning, his curls brushing against Alex’s throat, with just a few inches of mattress between a peaceful sleep and an unpleasant drop to the ground. 

Whether it was because of their history, ten years finding moments of sleep in the narrow bunk of the Airstream, or Alex’s engrained habits from Basic Training and later sparse officer quarters, they kept failing in properly sharing a bed.

At least that was the only failure they had between the sheets.

The true winner in all of this, was Gabe (for Saporta), Alex’s dark brindle pitbull he had adopted from a local rescue. If Michael thought about rolling backward to reclaim territory, Gabe was there with a grunt of dismay and a sleepy glare from his dark eyes. And after both of them, Michael in particular, had painstakingly worked to win over the shy, wary rescue to deign to even jump up on the bed, let alone share it, there was no question who won in that competition.

Alex always fronted with a playfully annoyed sigh, but nonetheless he let Michael drape his leg over him, and he always scooted carefully to the edge of the bed. They were in complete agreement, their pitbull deserved the room to sleep in undisturbed luxury. 

The comforting scent of rain filled Alex’s senses while the contented snores of their dog made for the best soundtrack to their life together. It really was a win-win.


	5. like a halo from a gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post 2x13 - "like a halo from a gun"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: From this anon prompt on tumblr - "Not sure if you are taking prompt buts if you are Post S2 prompt: I just want to see Alex quietly singing/humming The Song to Michael. Maybe Michael's hurt and in pain or they've both had a really emotional event happen and are totally drained from crying. I want that song to be a source of comfort. My partner isn't an amazing singer but I still find it really comforting when he sings to me and I like to think Michael and Alex eventually get to that point too."

Time stopped having meaning to Michael sometime after the third week of confinement.

Guards entered his cell at random intervals, always wearing black masks and dull, badge-less armor that kept them anonymous. The first injection of the serum Helena had once used on him let him know he was probably in the hands of the real Deep Sky operation. Fighting with his fists, pulling every dirty trick he learned from his brief stint in juvie at 15, rewarded him with a broken wrist and a battered torso.

He was gifted with a soft white bandage to hold the splits of his bone together, he supposed they were too nervous to allow him with the hard plaster of a cast. The pain left him weak, tired, and finally docile as vial after vial of blood was taken from him.

At least it was just blood, and not anything more taxing, like tissue or an organ. If he survives this cell, he would have to thank Max for blowing up Liz’s lab. There was no way he could be sanguine over seeing Noah’s liver in a jar after this experience.

Worry about that later, he reminded himself. If there was a later.

No one was coming for him because no one knew he was missing. His plan had been simple, shared with Isobel, Max and Sanders. A month long road trip to get some space from Roswell, and Max’s moping over Liz’s departure seemed like a good idea at the time, and if he by chance he ended up in California to plead his brother’s case, well, seeing the Pacific Ocean felt like a thing to do.

The open road with his window down had beckoned. He had let the wounded feelings from Maria blow away with his mixed emotions about Forrest, stitching up the raw places inside in ways he knew alcohol couldn’t and acetone shouldn’t. As he drove, he had found himself humming Alex’s song, reminding himself of the promise of the future.

It was not their time now, but it would be one day had been his mantra.

Three hours later, feeling lighter and more hopeful, he had pulled over to assist a stranded motorist. A mother, holding a baby at her hip, had seemed harmless enough until she hit him with a needle pulled from an innocuous diaper bag.

His powers gone, he had made it back to his truck just in time for three black Jeeps with weapons mounted to appear from the surrounding brush to pin him down. Surrender or death, he picked surrender. He picked hope.

Now, his wrist screaming with a swollen hot feeling, he considered the idea that he might have picked the wrong option. Michael shut his eyes, letting the siren song of fatigue, despair and pain drag him down to sleep. He found a brighter, happier place to be, deep inside his mind. Perhaps it was his body shutting down, or perhaps he had found the place his mother described to Tripp. The ultimate sanctuary from pain and fear.

There was a kinship believing that his mother found the same haven, where maybe her Manes man had waited for her the way Alex waited for him in the dream. The only dark he could find there, were Alex’s warm eyes, and the only touch he could feel was Alex’s broad hands. After three bags of blood drawn, he could sometimes hear Alex’s voice, whispering soft promises to him.

_Together we could quiet all the noises_

_Drown out the voices_

_Play our own song_

He could still hear Alex’s voice, as he slowly surfaced from his mind. It didn’t make any sense to his sluggish thoughts. The song kept up, and the next thing he was aware of was the slow, carding of his hair and the warmth under his face of his pillow. Except he didn’t have a pillow.

Blinking he met the bruised, worried face of Alex. He would never hallucinate Alex with a mark on his face, let alone darkening blemish on his cheekbone and worrying cut that bled sluggishly from his forehead creeping upward to his hairline. “You’re actually here?”

“Yes,” Alex confirmed.

“Why? How-”

“The ‘how’ is Maria had a vision not long after you left, and once she figured out that you were in trouble, she had me try to track your phone.” Alex frowned faintly, his touch never wavering as he smoothed back the matted and sweat-crusted locks of hair. “We found your truck at used car dealer a few miles from the last cell tower you pinged. It was all hands on deck to find you after that.”

Very little of his words registered on Michael. He was too caught up in the cringing horror at their close proximity, as his mind moved on from the fantasy of seeing Alex to the reality of his current condition. He wanted to pull away because god only knew how badly he smelled at the moment. Bathing consisted of a blast of a hose, bracingly cold and relying on the force of the water to wash away the dirt and fear-sweats he routinely suffered. All of that said, he never wanted to leave the place on Alex’s lap. Being treated like a person after 3 weeks of nothing but sterile touch undid all his work at detachment.

Unaware of the train of Michael’s thoughts, Alex continued in a soft voice, “I should have looked sooner, but- anyway, I didn’t even know you guys had broken up. Actually, I didn’t even know you left town until Maria came to my house looking for you.”

The blood loss was making him stupid as he tried to figure out what made Maria think he was at Alex’s. It was still too painful to even think about how he had failed with her, did she really think he would seek out the other person who knew how inadequate he was when it came to a relationship? As free and relaxed as Alex was at the Wild Pony, with Jesse in the ground, why would he want to ruin that?

Michael was well aware of how stuck he was emotionally, in all the ways that seemed to matter to people, and Alex had evolved past him. Tired, he squeezed his dry eyes shut tightly. “Why your house?”

“Her visions of you all involved me. In various positions she said?”

It took a second to comprehend Alex’s admission before Michael briefly wished that his captors would return. Getting drained to light-headed weakness was preferable to this. The mental retreat he had built where he inserted Alex into his delusion of a happily ever after had more windows instead of privacy doors. He had been broadcasting to his ex-girlfriend. Fuck his life. 

“Oh god- I’m so sorry, I just, I was trying to-.”

“Hey, hey,” Alex cut him off, his eyes kind as always even as Michael struggled to keep from crying. It was definitely time to wish for more needles, for more medical experimentation. That felt kinder than this discussion for Michael.

Sensing that hovering stab of humiliation, Alex made his own confession in return in the quiet, “After my leg, when rehab sucked. I pictured things being different too, or I thought about that summer with you. You don’t have to apologize, not to me.”

“Still, if she had put on the damn bracelet-” Mortified and weak, Micheal turned his face toward Alex’s hip, hiding it from view.

“Well the fact she wasn’t wearing the bracelet worked out in your favor. It’s how we realized you were in trouble in the first place, since she came over to my house to yell at you to stop projecting at her. She didn’t think it was deliberate either. She thought we had gotten back together, and because of your past with her, that you had left some link open by accident.”

“Bet Forrest loved that, my ex-girlfriend yelling at you about your- about me.”

Alex’s hand paused, either at the barb or the course correction Michael made in describing himself. For all the use of past tense feelings, the closest he’d heard Alex come to naming him was ‘first love’.

“Sorry,” Michael whispered, as a wave of shame swelled. “Sorry for that, and sorry that you’re here with me now. You shouldn’t have come but I know why you did. Guess that means we’re even now.”

“Of course I came, and it had nothing to do with being even.”

“Right, you don’t want to keep score anymore.”

Alex pinked a little at the reference to his song, before nodding seriously, “Yes, remember how the rest of the song goes?” He let his eyes track to the corner of the cell where the video surveillance was mounted plainly without subterfuge. “ _Would you meet me in the middle_ ,” he sang sweetly, nodding toward the left wall of the cell, “ _Could we both stop keeping score? There’s a battle I must fight along, it’s you I’m fighting for. If I call on my battalion, break down the walls stone by stone, tear down the defenses, I could build our heart a home?_ ”

Goddamnit. That crazy, brave, genius bastard really did have a plan. Michael was ready to both kiss and strangle Alex after that. 

The building shook briefly, rocked by a far off explosion. Michael summoned the reserves of his energy, and moved with Alex’s body as they rolled toward the wall. Then all hell started to break loose. The battalion mentioned was not just metaphorically tearing down walls. In the midst of deafening blasts and new alarms wailing in response, he found Alex’s ear. “I want to come home to you, that’s all I want, just when I’m ready.”

“That’s all I want too.”


	6. i don't need a map to tell me where you are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for aewriting and her anon.

There was so much screaming. 

Michael hid a smile as the kids bolted past him in blurs after Gregory opened the gates of the playground. His toolbox in hand, he headed back to the open tailgate of his truck where Alex was seated in the bed.The swing set at the family center on the reservation was now fixed after a long overdue wait and it was child safe once again. 

“You’re officially a hero,” Alex observed, handing over a beer from the cooler once Michael drew near. He was looking more relaxed than Michael could remember seeing, sprawled in one Michael’s folding camp chairs under the shade of a tree. A pair of mirrored sunglasses slid down his nose, revealing warm dark eyes that glowed with fond pride. “It was really nice of you to fix that for the kids.”

This was friendship, Michael thought, as he carefully kept his eyes on Alex’s face and not on the bead of sweat licking down Alex’s throat to dampen the collar of his black tank. It was completely unfair for those finely muscled arms to be displayed in such a manner, even if it was too hot for long sleeves. Though it wasn’t the first time he had the thought, Forrest was a lucky man to have Alex, even if Alex did keep repeating it was just casual. 

As if anyone could be casual about being with Alex Manes. That wasn’t possible in Michael’s experience.

He pressed the chill of the beer bottle to his neck, chasing away the ever-present desire from his face and refocused on the children that were swarming the equipment. Gregory was standing watch, carefully directing children into a line and calling out reminders of sharing. “Greg was nice enough to let me harvest some more flowers, so this is the least I can do. Plus it’s a crime to have a playground without a set of swings.”

“Was that your favorite place to play as a kid?”

“Yeah. I mean what kid doesn’t like pretending they could fly?” Michael pulled up the tail of his shirt to mop sweat from his brow. “That’s the whole point of a swing set, you get to launch yourself from the seat and pretend to fly away from everything.”

“I guess it would appeal, especially to an alien kid.” Alex observed, his voice quiet on ‘alien’. 

“I don’t have a lot of reference points yet to compare, but outside of knocking over a table with my brain, I think kids are kids.” Michael dropped his shirt back over his chest, smoothing down the wrinkles, and caught movement from the corner of his eye from Alex, as if he had been staring in turn at the reveal of skin. 

“Yet?” Alex echoed. 

Well fuck. Michael drained the bottle of beer quickly, as he stalled for time. His fingers itched for a second beer, but he was trying to do things differently these days. Hold himself to normal moderation in drinking. Maintain normal levels of socializing with his friends, especially with his completely normal relationship with his ex-everything.

He glanced down at Alex, and gathered the tattered scraps of courage. “Yeah, uh, I want a family. I’ve kinda always wanted a family.”

“Always?” Alex’s voice stayed soft and tentative. 

Michael knew exactly what he was asking. Well if anyone was going to destroy him. “Always. I know you probably have less of a clue than I do about raising kids, but yeah, I always pictured it like that. You, me, a couple of kids, a house with a yard,” he looked away from Alex then, unable to face anything that looked like dismissal of that dream on Alex’s face. The squawk and squabble of the children playing seemed fainter in his ears as his pulse pounded painfully loud. “We’d have a swing set for sure. A garden too, kids should get to watch something grow and blossom. I didn’t have any of that growing up, but I want it.”

Alex was silent, his hand paused with his beer frozen toward his mouth.

There went his attempt at trying to find a normal with Alex. It was good while it lasted. Michael cleared his throat of the sudden block, and tucked his empty bottle back into the six pack. Fuck it, he was going to have a second.

“Maybe I should go make sure my repairs are holding up-”

“Michael, wait,” Alex stood up, stepping in his path after his flimsy excuse. He pulled the fresh beer from Michael’s weak grasp, placing it carefully back. “I didn’t know you thought about things like that, I mean that’s-” he broke off, with an overwhelmed laugh, and then laid both hands on Michael’s shoulders to keep him from moving away. 

“I know that was a lot to drop on you, and it’s okay, I mean, we’re friends now, and I know we’re not, we’re not that, and I will get over it, I won’t be weird about it, I mean, you have Forrest-”

Alex made a noise of frustration halting the babble of excuses and backpedaling. “Oh my god, for the last time, it’s not serious with him.”

“Maybe not serious now, but he’s going to fall in love with you, Alex.” Michael smiled sadly, “Everyone does. It’s the most predictable thing about you. People fall in love with you and they never fall out of it. And I’m sorry I’m an asshole that can’t be satisfied with just being friends. I’m really sorry-”

“Do you know what the most predictable thing about you is?” Alex cut in and tightened his hold on Michael’s shoulders. “Your inability to see the obvious. I’m here. I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m not falling in love with someone else, not today. Not tomorrow.” He crept closer to Michael, closing the scant distance between them. “I’m working on me, trying to be the best man I can, so we can have that yard someday. Put together that swing-set.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Michael let his eyes drift down to Alex’s mouth, and licked his lips unconsciously. “Is your thing with Forrest casual enough to -”

Alex pressed his lips against Michael’s, kissing the question into silence in the most obvious answer.


End file.
